


All I Want

by of_heaven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Inter-House Relationships, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_heaven/pseuds/of_heaven
Summary: Alphonse Cole is a seventh year Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. The shy, reserved, and sensitive student is the last person one would expect to befriend the infamous Weasley twins, but fate is fickle, and within a year he became known as their official merchandise artist. As their friendship grows, so does Alphonse's feelings towards the elder twin until avoiding them is close to impossible.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	All I Want

Red; The color of spilled blood, cherries that grow in the summer, and the cobblestone path that lead him down Diagon Alley.

Gold; The color of victory, a hint of metal in a floating candle holder, and the sun that would shine on his pale face as soon as his final exams were completed. 

And then there was him. Alphonse Cole, adorned in his royal blue hood, couldn’t do anything except keep his eyes on the Gryffindor banner hanging above the dining hall’s longtable. Hunger surged through him; hunger for breakfast, and hunger for the Weasley twin sitting adjacent from the Ravenclaw table.

It began a year prior. The sun had fallen from the sky, and only the dancing flames contained in the hallway’s torches illuminated Alphonse’s path. A Transfiguration essay had captured his mind, and in that moment he found himself barely trudging left foot in front of right, out of the library and back to the Ravenclaw Commonroom. 

A soft lump met the bottom of his foot. He jumped backwards, stumbling on his feet. Fearing the worst, the teenager hesitantly searched for the unfortunate victim of his shoe.

_ Lumos _ .

A mouse twitched on the illuminated cobblestone ground. He pulled his satchel over his body and threw it beside him. Now on his hands and knees, he crawled towards the injured animal.

“Oh,” he sighed, then laughed. “It’s fake.” 

The animal squeaked like a cat’s toy each time it exhaled. In the wand’s dull light, he could see threads and fabric instead of fur.

“Oy, you there.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Ravenclaw, right? Gah, no wonder you foiled our plan!” Two sets of robes emerged from behind a stone corner. The twin on the left approached the student and slammed his palm against Alphonse’s shoulder, laughing.

He was familiar. Cheeky quips and fidgeting hands sparked his memory. Seven years; that was how he knew the red-haired teenagers ahead of him. They shared courses for almost a decade, how  _ couldn’t  _ he know the devilish Weasley twins? His forehead met their eyes, yet the slight height difference still intimidated him. 

Six full years he had spent within the magical castle’s body. He kept to himself, mostly. True to the stereotype of his house, the teenager spent much of his time hidden in the school’s library. Sometimes he’d halt his studying to join his fellow Ravenclaws in a round of wizard’s chess. Other times he’d write home to his father, or to his sister at Beauxbatons, or confide in one of his only close friends at Hogwarts; anything to keep his mind from wandering where it shouldn’t. 

Alphonse felt a surge of heat rush to his cheeks as he rose to his feet. If he continued to stand still, he’d feel the walls breathe around him.

“I, uh, I’m sorry if I damaged it in any way. It was a spur of the moment thing, really-”

“No need to apologize,” the second Weasley, who now stood across from him, assured. “If anything, we should be thanking you!”

Then, unexpectedly, the twins threw themselves down on their knees and grabbed at his legs.

“Oh, saviour of ours-!”

“-How can we  _ ever  _ repay you, good sir?!”

Alphonse glanced once more at the toy rat. He cleared his throat.

“Well,” he began. “You  _ could  _ try to add realism to the fur. No real animal squeaks like that either, but that’s an easy fix. The legs move in an odd way too...” 

And so the twins, though shocked at being one-upped, accepted Alphonse under their wing. He didn’t need an unbreakable vow, nor did he require a quill and parchment to sign his fate away. Introducing himself to Fred and George that November evening was the change of direction he unknowingly desired.

* * *

Now, one year later, Alphonse remained bashful. His pale, freckled cheeks glowed under the candlelight above him as he observed the twins banter with each other across the hall. He used to wonder how their family distinguished between the two, but as he grew closer to them their differences became apparent. 

George was soft. He was the one who nodded and grinned with every suggestion that came from his brother. He was a shoulder puncher, unlike his twin, who had the habit of hanging his arm over Alphonse’s shoulders when speaking to him. Blushing came more naturally to George, as did regret when plans went awry. 

Fred, on the other hand, was flexible. His mind seemed to run rampant with imagination, and Alphonse couldn’t remember a day where his classmate didn’t run ideas by him. In fact, it was as if Fred sought him out specifically to discuss whatever was on his mind. 

He couldn’t help but admire both of them. They were confident and casual—far more than he ever was. Their personalities were naturally magnetic, yet it wasn’t difficult to tell which twin was the one who truly held his attention.

Fred was the one who sparked something within Alphonse. He couldn’t say no to the twin’s cheeky smile, nor could he look away when the boy would hover over him when he drew. His skin would grow hot to the point of discomfort, yet nothing in him desired to push Fred away. The sensation began shortly after they were acquainted, and only grew as the year progressed. His beloved sketchbook was littered with portraits of Fred, drawn without either twin knowing.

But he couldn’t admit to his obsession, because it wasn’t an obsession. It was a problem, but it was one no one had to know. He was fine with this one-sided affair, so long as he kept it hidden. 

There was a routine. When their stomachs were as full as their hearts, the two would approach his house table and escort him out of the dining hall, their words flying into his ears faster than he could understand. They’d turn the corners of the school until the solid floors were replaced by damp grass, all the while conversing about classes, personal projects, and the occasional question that threw Alphonse for a loop. 

“Ya think you can come up with a rough sketch of a guy puking his brains out?” one of the twins asked.

“Brains? How many does he have?” Alphonse replied as he stuffed his sketchbook back into his leather bag.

“More than us, that’s for sure! Plus we should be able to hear him retching!”

“However many he’s supposed to have! You’re the one who wants to be a healer, aren't cha?”

Alphonse could no longer blame the dining hall’s lighting for the glow his cheeks produced. Shortly after becoming friends, the twins had asked him about his plans for when he leaves Hogwarts. A healer, he told them. He had to put his drawings to use. He carried a sketchbook around with him, full of study sketches and quick portraits of his classmates and professors he scribbled during classes. The brothers found him drawing herbs from the greenhouses one day and approached him with an offer he couldn’t refuse. Weeks later, he became known throughout the school as the Weasley twins’ official product artist. 

It had to have been Fred who asked the last question. He always remembered the little things.

The trio reached the rickety bridge that connected the campus to the grassy hills that were home to Hagrid’s hut and the Quidditch field. Once their school shoes touched the stamped-out paths, Alphonse reached for a package of cigarettes and brought a stick to his lips. He offered a puff to the two out of habit, and as usual, they denied.

He would jokingly call himself a muggleborn trapped in a world of magic. The nicotine addiction came from his father, a muggle in London who smoked like their house’s chimney. His mother, a French expat, was the witch in his family. She didn’t approve of his smoking, but neither did his father. That didn’t stop the man from sending Alphonse packs of cigarettes once he learned how to send letters to Hogwarts, however.

One of the twins grabbed his shoulder, while the other kept his hands in his pants pockets. 

“Hey, Al, we’ve been meaning to ask-”

“Is there a girl you fancy?” 

Alphonse choked on smoke. He coughed a couple times, only adding to the redness of his face.

“We’ll take that as a yes!” the other twin interjected. “What house is she in?”

“We know you’d never touch a Slytherin-”

“Gah, no! Is she a Hufflepuff? Or one of those French girls from Beauxbatons-”

“Woah, woah.” Alphonse extinguished the light of his cigarette and stuffed it back in its box, his fingers fidgeting. “What’s with this all of a sudden?”

“We’re just curious.”

“ _ And _ we’re looking out for a lonely friend.” The twin winked.

“I don’t look lonely, do I?”

He didn’t have to ask. Alphonse’s circle of friends within the school was small. Naturally introverted, he only communicated with the twins, his sister, and a few Ravenclaws in passing on a daily basis. He did have one close friend from his house, a girl named Violet, but her own dating experiences left their connection dangling by a thread. 

“You’re evading the question, Alphie,” Fred teased. It had to be Fred; he was the only one who called him by the childish nickname.

“And you’re evading  _ mine _ ! Why do you assume I fancy a girl here?”

He didn’t intend to sound as annoyed as he did. He could feel his eyebrows scrunch and his lips pull together as the twins glanced at each other. Though he was a few inches shorter than the two, his resting face was just as intimidating as the ones he could make when angered.

The hand on his shoulder lifted, and defensively joined the other in the air.

“We shouldn’t have assumed. We’re sorry.”

“ _ But  _ we know some nice ladies who are looking for a handsome fella like yourself if you’re interested-”

“I don’t like girls.”

The air grew thick. Alphonse regretted the words as soon as they escaped his lips. Perhaps it was a trick from the sun, but he could swear he saw a flash in one of the brothers’ eyes.

“Really?” the glowing brother asked. “Are you into-”

“I’m  _ not  _ about to have this conversation.” Alphonse shuffled through his bag, avoiding eye contact with the two. He yanked his transfiguration textbook into the open air and began walking back to the school.

“I have a class to get to, and I suggest you two do the same,” he stated before propelling his body forward. To his surprise, and to his disappointment, the sound of slamming shoes did not follow him once he reached the building.

Alphonse found himself unable to focus on his classes that morning. His mind wandered on its own, creating realities that left him feeling ill. Fellow Ravencalws snickered under their breaths when he incorrectly answered one of Professor McGonagall’s questions, and other professors remarked on his sudden change in demeanor that morning.

It wasn’t until he entered the Great Hall for lunch when Alphonse realized his bag was lighter than usual. He had taken a center seat at the Ravenclaw long table, keeping an anxious eye out for the twins. He couldn’t face them, not after insinuating he was attracted to men. Sitting between other members of his house had already begun to send paranoid thoughts through his imagination, and he mentally swore at himself for being anxious enough to forget one of his textbooks. As he thumbed through the contents of his bag however, he realized it wasn’t a textbook he was missing. 

“My sketchbook,” he whispered. His eyes widened at the realization that his treasured artwork was out of his sight, and his heart dropped when he remembered what else was inside it. 

“Fuck!” He exclaimed. Fortunately the Hall was busy with the hustle and bustle of students, so his peers didn’t respond to his cursing. With his appetite suddenly gone, he hurried out of the Hall with the intention of visiting each of his morning classrooms. Before he could step over the threshold of the Hall however, a familiar arm latched itself around his shoulder and directed him to an empty corridor. 

“Not so fast,” the voice said.

Alphonse could smell the assailant’s clothing without having to look to see who it was; pinecones, an attic, firewood.

It was Fred.

Once the hallway came into sight, Fred let go of him and straightened his posture. 

“Sorry about the abduction,” he mumbled while unlatching his own leather bag. Something felt odd. A chill ran down Alphonse’s spine when he realized the twin was alone. Where was George?

Then, his heart sank. 

Fred thumbed through his bag which, noticeably, didn’t have many textbooks inside. He stopped at a spine that Alphonse recognized all too well, and the twin pulled it out with a grin.

“You dropped your sketchbook this morning! Thought you’d want it back!”

Alphonse blinked away the tears that were about to form. He murmured a, “Thank you”, and stuffed the book into his bag while avoiding eye contact. Did Fred look through it? He would have said something if he did, right? Thoughts flew through his mind faster than he could comprehend. All the while, the twin kept his eyes on the boy, but fiddled with his robe pockets.

“The first Hogsmeade trip is this Saturday,” Fred began. “Do you have plans?”

Alphonse shrugged, thankful that the air around them was alleviating. “I’ll just be studying like usual, why?”

“Go on a date with me.”

He choked. “What?”

“Go on a date with me,” he repeated, a grin forming on his lips. “Do I need to ask it in French?”

“Do you speak French?”

“No, but I’m sure we could make a product that does.”

Was he serious? Did he look through his drawings and see pages upon pages of his own face?

“Okay?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’! Meet me by the gates at ten o’clock. It’ll be a day you’ll never forget, I promise.” 

Fred turned to walk away, but Alphonse, frozen in place, stopped him.

“No, wait.” He shook his head in disbelief. “If this is some prank of yours then it isn’t funny. I don’t want to be part of all this if that’s what it is.”

A smirk played on Fred’s lips. He spun around to face Alphonse again and took a step closer.

“Why would I mess around with you like that?” 

He brushed a stray hair behind Alphonse’s ear. The other boy could feel his cheeks grow heated, and he knew his face must have started turning red. Fred’s fingers lingered mid-air before finding a space on the other’s shoulder. 

“That’s what I thought.” Fred gave him a few quick pats on the aforementioned shoulder, and the tension disappeared. "Ten o'clock, don't be late!"

And with that the twin proceeded down the corridor. George was leaning against the wall at the end of it. Alphonse watched as the two of them continued walking, Fred's hands flailing as his lips moved. The boy pinched his wrist to make sure he wasn't dreaming. As the twins disappeared from his sight, he grew aware of the pounding created by his heart.

"Okay," he said to no one in particular. "See you then."


End file.
